The meeting had started just as Luca strode through the doors of the warehouse. The backrooms that held the coats of visitors had a door connected to the main office. Shrugging out of his wet leather jacket, he ran a hand through his wet hair, sprinkling droplets on the dusty floor.

Tugging at the door with a free hand, he opened it to find almost all members of the docks sitting patiently. Luca quickly scanned the full room and didn't see Carmine yet. That was a good sign, no one wanted to be there after he had already arrived. Signs of disrespect never boded well for the offending individual.

Striding to the meeting table, Luca took the files in his hand and placed them at the head of the table for Carmine to read before updating everyone.

Luca had found plans at the GCPD office after he had been arrested for assault outside of one of Maroni's nightclubs. Luca shouldn't have been on Maroni's turf, but Luca had been restless and wanted to reach out farther than their district. He thought that he wouldn't be noticeable.

Guys like him were in the club all the time. He was of average height, had brown hair, and wore leather. What guy didn't look like him that swung in these circles?

Apparently Maroni's boys noticed him before he could leave the club. As soon as he felt a whiff of trouble, he had tried to get out of there, but he felt a tap on the shoulder and the barrel of a gun hitting his ribs. Of course there was no one else who noticed the rapidly escalating situation among the throng of dancers and the flashing strobe lights.

Luca had been escorted up the stairs of the club into the back room where he thought he would die in the office of his boss's rival. Surprisingly, Salvatore had just cackled and asked if this is how they were going to be spying on one another. Salvatore's crew had clear confusion on their faces but said nothing to their boss.

Salvatore had been in a good mood that night to Luca's relief.

As for the altercation that Luca got arrested for? He had gotten into a fight with an undercover cop that had tried to sell him smack. Apparently striking an undercover officer had eased tensions a little bit as Salvatore had been trying to remove that shit stain of a man for weeks. Salvatore had witnessed Luca's arrest and must have made a few calls because his Carmine didn't kill him but said that Luca had been stupid. But Luca's actions had eased tensions between the rivalling families.

Who knew finding undercover pigs would unite the families more than being rivals in a city for over 50 years. Statistically speaking, of all the shit that happened in Gotham you'd think they'd buddy up over something far greater in a time of need. But to Luca's knowledge there had been no such occasion.

With God as his witness, Luca had been spared by Maroni and had been in custody less than an hour before being bailed out by one of Falcone's men.

Salvatore had been a breeze to deal with, but Falcone? Luca had thought he escaped that night but had ended up going from the frying pan right into the fire.

After his boss had thrown a glass across the room as he found out where one of his main boys had been, he slammed his hands down on his office desk and had relegated Luca to gopher status.

That was fine. Luca had collected documents and had done other menial jobs that an uninterested intern would do.

As Luca was taking a seat and listening to the banter of the other men, a loud thump could be heard outside the door.

With a hefty push, the doors to the office flew open and Carmine stalked in, taking notice of where everyone was sitting.

Carmine's hair was receding and streaked with grey, but his firm expression held minimal wrinkles as though he hadn't had to worry about much in his life but underground activities. The Falcone family were one of Gotham's first families that established roots generations ago. They had more money than they knew what to do with. But for the Falcone family, respect meant everything. They needed to continue to have status within the community. It was not an option for them to fade to the back pages of Gotham society.

Carmine was known to swing in elegant circles despite his mafia ties. If anything, it made his image starker and more appealing. Luca didn't understand why at all.

Carmine sat, dressed down in a plain white linen shirt without his overcoat. His tie was loosened, and his shirt was wet. Like the other men, he was not spared from the rain.

Despite his dress, Carmine held the room with one blank glance. His eyebrows narrowed when glancing to Luca's left. Luca kept staring ahead while Carmine stared down Mateo, another young man that was about Luca's age.

Luca noticed Mateo stiffen and Luca had to fight for his eyes not to widen. Luca knew that Mateo had done something horribly wrong. Before Luca could even think what had happened, Mateo had risen from the table, with his chair screeching against the cement floor.

Luca witnessed the frightened look on Mateo's face and Carmine's apoplectic expression.

Without warning Mateo fell forward as a piercing shot went into the back of his head.

Luca felt he couldn't breathe. Mateo had fallen on the table, the remnants of his head spewing crimson. Luca swallowed uneasily and instinctively moved the file from the rapidly expanding blood puddle.

With a fairly steady hand, despite what had just transpired, Luca handed the file to Carmine's outstretched hand.

Carmine took the file without a word. The rest of the table fell silent as the shooter sat down. Angelo Carmine sat down, brandishing the gun in his hand while looking at the dead Mateo.

Mateo's blue eyes were open in fright and his sandy blonde hair was drenched in crimson red.

Angelo pursed his lips and ripped Mateo's leather jacket open revealing a wire.

Luca exhaled quietly.

Angelo shot him a look of pride; he had defended the family from a rat.

Luca nodded at Angelo carefully as to not betray his true feelings.

Angelo's face was a wretched visage. His hair was thin and wispy, it draped along his ears. He hadn't cut his greasy hair in a while and it was evident. His chin was boubous and small hairs were scattered around his face. He clearly couldn't grow a beard, but it didn't stop him from trying.

Angelo was the most volatile nephew of the Falcone family.

His induction in the family began when he was just sixteen as he had shot an intruder that had tried to steal from the Falcone's penthouse suite.

Carmine took a seat at the head of the table and began to speak in a quiet and serious tone that brokered no discussion.

"Gentlemen I apologize for the beginning of this meeting. Our dear friend Mateo was working alongside the GCPD to provide information about the family and our activities."

There was a lengthy pause where no one dared to speak.

Carmine glanced at every face among the crowd of men sitting around Mateo.

"I see no reason for us to continue here tonight, I just wanted you all to know what awaits you if you are no longer loyal to the family."

Carmine walked around the table slowly and grasped Angelo's shoulder without saying a word.

"Goodnight Gentlemen."

The sound of screeching chairs could be heard across the otherwise quiet room.

The sound of a lighter being flicked open was a soothing sound that normally calmed Luca even in the worst of times. If the boss was flicking a lighter to light a cigar it meant that things would be okay for the next little while. Clearly the violence demonstrated tonight shattered that theory completely.

Luca took a look at the table where they were just sitting. The table in the heart of the Falcone shipping warehouse was dull and chipped. Despite the table's lackluster appearance, it had an extensive history. Meetings conducted at the table were notorious in that they often determined what happened in Gotham's underworld.

Tonight, that table was marred with the blood of a traitor.

Mateo's body stayed there, and Luca knew that he had to get up and move. If he didn't it would look as though he was guilty or that he was weak.

Weakness was not a trait found in the Falcone family.

Luca knew that despite his young age, he was given an opportunity he couldn't deny when he was granted a seat at the table and in the family.

Before Luca could get up and leave like the rest of the men, Carmine looked at him directly, no emotion shown on his face.

"Luca sit here a moment. I have to talk to you."

Luca paused; the calm he had previously tried to feel shattered the moment he was called to stay back.

Swallowing uneasily, Luca managed to nod his head.

The boss slowly paced around the worn-out office. The faded taupe brick wall had cracked in several places and the floor was covered in dust and debris. The dirty glass window overlooking the shipping crates and various boxes was closed and suddenly Luca was wishing that it would open to let out the musty smell.

Luca rapped his hands along the table nervously, wincing when he noticed Mateo's blood had seeped further down the table. Swiping his hands away from the blood, he placed them on his lap and slouched forward.

"Luca, someone's been talking, I don't know who. You seem to get along with everybody in the crew. I need you to be my eyes and ears son. Do you understand?"

Luca paused before speaking, "Yeah boss, I understand. I'll keep my head down, ears open, right?"

Carmine Falcone smiled, his yellow and crooked teeth on full display.

Luca inwardly sighed, this wasn't ideal. He would have to be reporting to the boss to find the mole. Mateo had been caught and it was clear that he hadn't been careful enough when reporting back to the GCPD. Mateo's handlers were clearly careless, and Luca was grateful that he had Officer Miller and Commissioner Gordon looking out for him while undercover.

The boss had asked him to find the rat, the only problem Luca had was that he was the last rat.

…

Damian Wayne had little issues while out on patrol. He was careful, listened to guidance and rarely if ever had breached his father's orders.

For Damian, tonight was like any other night.

Although Gotham had been eerily quiet the past few days that did not indicate lasting peace. It was the times of quiet that pushed all anxiety to the edge. Sitting on a rooftop gargoyle in the downtown core, he let his legs extend off the gothic structure as he glanced down below.

The streets were silent, save for the occasional drunkards who were walking to their homes after an intense night of partying. Cars were few and far between now that last call had been issued in the bars and clubs downtown.

The alleys and roads down below were illuminated well with streetlamps, a decision that the city had finally made. The lighting made it easier to see most of what was going on. Deep in the alleys it was still darkened, but if one kept to the main streets they wouldn't be completely in the dark.

Watching Gotham alongside Damian was his father. Sitting on the gargoyle next to Damian he watched the opposite direction.

"Things are quiet tonight." Batman remarked, narrowing his eyes.

Damian sighed, "I have never desired crime before."

Batman smirked, "These nights will be cherished when there's another breakout at Blackgate or Arkham."

"Has anyone broken out that we know of?" Damian questioned staring off at the skyscrapers in the distance.

"No."

Damian let his shoulders drop in disappointment.

"It's two in the morning, we'll head back in. You have school tomorrow."

Damian clenched his teeth at the thought. He found it redundant. He was leagues ahead of his peers and he wasn't able to demonstrate his full abilities. If he had it would put even more pressure on him from the tabloids and the press. If he skipped ahead of his peers into a higher grade level it would certainly cause more problems that it would be worth. He was tutored privately as well as attending school at the academy.

Damian was about to protest when he was thrown from the gargoyle by his father. A shot rang out in the night right where Damian had been sitting.

As they freefell Damian swallowed uneasily, the only people who would dare shoot at Batman's protégé were typically not to be trifled with. A few more shots rang out in the night and Damian fought the urge to yell when he felt a bullet pierce the weak point beneath his armor. His father grappled his hook onto one of the gargoyles and used the momentum to kick in a glass window of the building they were sitting on.

As the crashed into the apartment, they rolled away from the windows as more shots rang through the night.

Damian felt his shoulder with a gloved hand and grunted in pain.

Holding his breath, he waited for instructions from his father.

"Damian, go to the batcave now!" Batman bellowed as he flung himself towards Damian's would be assassin.

Batman didn't wait to hear Damian's protests, he just jumped towards the assailant.

Damian took a moment to analyze his surroundings. The apartment was empty and surprisingly furnished. It was likely a condo ready to be rented out. Save for the broken window where they had both crashed in unceremoniously, it was a well decorated unit. Damian breathed in slowly and took his gloved hand from his shoulder. The air was thick with the smell of rust. Damian took his gloves off and ripped his armored plating from his uniform, he felt the bullet lodged in his shoulder.

Taking the gauze carefully tucked into his utility belt he began to strip himself of all of his armor that had become useless. The Kevlar material could withstand several regular bullets but when a high-power round was shot into the material it practically disintegrated the surrounding fibres. The rest of the fibres surrounding the bullet were stretched outward and drenched with his blood.

Damian sighed as he kept the pressure on his wound. After he stripped off his armor he was left in his thermal black clothing and mask. His thermal undershirt had a gaping hole and the stitching of the shirt was jagged and ripped near the shoulder. The bullet was stilled lodged in deep. He would have to seek medical attention, or this would become much worse.

He wanted to rip the bullet out himself but knew that without immediate attention he would likely bleed out. He wasn't hit near an artery nor a vital organ so that was a positive aspect of being shot.

"Tt. This is typical." Damian breathed aloud.

The only truly positive thing to come of being shot at this angle was being able to miss a day or two of school. With a laugh, Damian smiled as he held the gauze to his shoulder.

"Kiddo, when a person gets shot, they don't usually laugh." A voice came from Damian's side near the broken window.

Damian whirled around, surprised he didn't hear the grappling of Batman's first protégé.

Nightwing stood near the window being careful of the sea of shattered glass on the floor. He walked over to Damian, concern marring his face. Reaching out a gloved hand, he looked at the discarded armor on the floor next to Damian.

"The fibres of your armor…they're destroyed. No normal bullet could have done this, not even a typical sniper round."

"As soon as we get back to the cave, we can analyze the bullet and see if there are any indications of whom it belonged," Damian wheezed.

Damian slowly picked himself up from the relatively clean floor. The once white tiles were stained with his blood and covered in fragments of glass.

Nightwing put the armor down unceremoniously and reached out to help the younger boy up.

"What are you doing here Grayson?" Damian swallowed uneasily.

"I was in town for later today but couldn't sleep so I went out patrolling. I heard the shot. I just didn't think it was you that got hurt. No one small shoots at Robin."

"A little redundant to point out an obvious factoid Grayson." Damian scowled, gripping the gauze as Nightwing held a hand to his good shoulder.

Damian wiped his burning brow with his unaffected arm, pushing Grayson's steady hand away from his back. He noticed how wet his sleeve had become. Along with feeling as though he were burning, he was feeling dizzy.

"Damian!"

Falling to his side, Damian struggled to breathe. He recognized the bullet and its round. It was laced with toxin. This was the work of an assassin, one whom Damian believed he knew from his days of being with his mother in the League.

Damian opened his mouth to breathe out a few words, "Copperhead…it's Copperhead."

Nightwing shook Damian, trying to keep him conscious.

"Dammit Damian, wake up!"

….

Luca knew that his night was becoming increasingly strange. He ignored calls from both Miller and Commissioner Gordon on his burner phone and tried to breathe and forget Mateo's corpse lying on the table of the warehouse.

Someone else had taken care of the body, but before Luca had left, he had taken pictures of files and invoices from the desk of Carmine. He didn't know if anything was helpful, but he observed peculiar transactions. One transaction confused him more than anything.

It was labelled pest control and the service fee had been over five million dollars.

"Oh Christ." Luca exhaled.

This was a hit; it didn't matter what would happen to him now. A hit costing that much meant that this was much bigger than himself and Mateo. This could be anyone from the resident DA, to the judges in Gotham, to the police commissioner himself.

A horrible thought entered the back of his mind. At five million dollars, a hit like that could be used to take down a vigilante…or a sidekick.

Luca had seen Batman and Robin once, and that had been on the rooftop of the GCPD building in order to tell both of them information on Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni's activities.

This hit had to be for them. Batman and Robin were constantly interrupting shipments at the docks. The latest incident was over two German hostages. The GCPD had been informed that both the hostages had been children. That incident had provoked Commissioner Gordon and Miller to create an undercover operation to look into the activities of both Mafia families. The Russian mob had made a deal with Falcone and upon the retrieval of the children, Falcone would be paid a cut of the ransom money for allowing the Russians to use their shipping yard.

That plan had been foiled by Batman and Robin and there were rumors of a man three times the size of Batman who helped the duo.

Luca didn't know if the rumors were true, but he knew Batman and Robin had saved those children and intervened.

Falcone and the rest of the mafia families in Gotham wanted Batman and Robin dead.

It seemed that Falcone was the first one to pony up the dough.

Luca rushed from the warehouse to the GCPD building, not caring if he was seen or followed. Robin was just a kid, couldn't be more than twelve years old. He didn't deserve that fate even if he chose the life of fighting crime.

….

At the heart of the GCPD building, Commissioner Gordon had stayed late to file paperwork. It was a part of the job he absolutely despised, but since his predecessors had left such horrible records, he knew he had to do things differently.

As he was sorting through papers, the wooden doors to his office suddenly burst open and Luca Deloise strode in panting.

His ashen brown hair was soaked from the torrential rainfall that had been plaguing the city for the past three days. His leather jacket clung to him like a second skin and he looked pale and shaken.

"Luca what the hell are you doing here? Were you followed?" Commissioner Gordon barked at the young man.

Commissioner Gordon knew that his cover was likely blown and that he had better of had a good reason for destroying the operation without warning.

Luca shook his head, "Commissioner, I don't know, and I frankly don't give a shit. Falcone put a hit on Batman…or Robin…or both. Listen I don't know. The rain must have interfered with a cell tower because I tried calling from my burner phone and I didn't have a signal. I had to come here. The hit payment was registered and sent last week. It could happen at any time now."

Commissioner Gordon's eyes widened, "Luca come with me."

Both men flew up the GCPD stairs to the rooftop to turn on the Bat signal.

As both men waited anxiously around the beaming light, they knew in their gut that something had gone wrong. It was unlike the vigilantes to be this late when the sign was lit.

"Do you think we're too late?" Luca questioned his superior.

Commissioner Gordon ran a hand through his prematurely graying hair, "I don't know son. I do know that this city has been better off since they've started, and I know that they aren't that easy to take down."

Luca swallowed and nodded, not daring to break the silence that had befallen them both.

Before long a familiar shadow was upon them. Both men turned around quickly to look at their resident vigilante. Luca and the Commissioner both noticed Robin missing from Batman's side.

Assuming the worst, Luca spoke without hesitation, "Falcone put a hit out on one of you or both."

"I know." Batman replied without emotion.

Luca bit his lip, "Is the kid alright? He's not with you."

Batman spoke darkly, "Robin was shot with a round laced with a neurotoxin. The bullet was not meant for him."

Luca paled, "I'm sorry I didn't see the papers sooner. Is he gonna make it?"

Batman nodded, "He's going to be okay."

Commissioner Gordon rubbed both of his eyes as Luca bent over and held onto his knees for support. When Luca looked back up, Batman was gone. It had been less than four seconds!

"You'll get used to that kid." Commissioner Gordon sighed as he looked at Gotham's skyline.

…

Damian's body was hooked to an IV and was for all intents and purposes stabilized. The wound to his shoulder had not hit the subclavian artery. Nor was the brachial plexus suffering permanent damage. Damian would retain all motor function in his arm and shoulder.

"The round fired in the shoulder was not meant to be lethal, but what the bullet was laced with would have killed him." Alfred spoke to both Dick and Bruce.

Both men were standing protectively over Damian. The suit that was broken in several junctions was discarded on the floor and Damian's shirt that had been cut from his body was beside the broken plates of armor.

Dick rubbed his tired eyes and clenched his fists.

"Copperhead. What do we know?" Dick asked turning to Bruce.

"Falcone paid an assassin to kill Batman but there is something more going on here. Copperhead is an assassin with ties to the League, if Talia or Ra's are behind this we'll know." Bruce glowered.

"Master Bruce, you do not really believe that Talia would hire an assassin to kill the father of her only son?"

"I don't know what she would or wouldn't do. She's unstable and becoming just like her father. Damian cannot go back to that life. I will die before I let him go back to the League."

"That seems to be what's happening here." Dick joked without humor.

Bruce turned to his first protégé glowering, "They will not succeed."

"Did he get away?" Dick questioned.

"She has a tracer on her, as soon as she is dormant, we'll know where in Gotham she's hiding."

"When will he wake up?"

Alfred answered slowly, looking over Damian's antibiotics IV, "He's responding well right now, it won't be long until his shoulder heals, and he is back onto the field."

Bruce shook his head, "He's not going onto the field until Copperhead is found."

A small groan escaped Damian, "Copperhead is mine."

Damian looked up through blurry eyes, seeing the concerned faces of his family.

Pursing his lips, he spoke and it looked as though it took great effort, "Copperhead is associated with my mother. I know where and how she was trained and how to find her. The tracer you likely placed on her is useless. She placed it on someone else. That's her typical MO. Despite being shot, I can still handle finding her."

Bruce sighed, "Damian I know you were trained for this-"

"I was and I still am. No one understands the League as much as someone who was involved, who fought alongside assassins, killed targets, and lived with them. You do not share the same experience in which I became accustomed."

Bruce was about to protest but Damian stopped him with a single sentence.

"I managed to defeat Deathstroke several times in combat, something your first protégé was only able to do twice."

"I was never friends with Slade." Dick exclaimed thinking of all the times Slade had interfered with the Titans and harmed his closest friends.

Damian shook his head, "No. You weren't and neither of you have had allies who utilized killing as a way to earn economic freedom, protection, or survival. This is not your world and you will never be able to understand it."

Bruce and Dick quieted for a moment thinking of what Damian had said. Both noticed Damian talk about the League in the present tense.

Damian slowly raised himself up to a sitting position.

"Alfred tells me I need to improve compromising skillset. I will try to do this now. I will rest for a few days. Nightwing will accompany Batman on patrol and Drake will be called in to impersonate me while I recover. He will only have to appear once to ensure that Copperhead knows that she was not successful. Her mission continues to be active until a body or evidence of assassination is procured. Drake will be safe. As will I. When my condition improves, I will work alongside you to ensure Copperhead is dealt with."

Dick looked at Bruce bewildered, "Did you replace your son with a reasonable and rational clone?"

"No." Bruce responded curtly.

"Do we have our compromise?" Damian questioned tiredly as he felt his body become weaker.

Bruce nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop his son once he had made up his mind. His compromise was more than fair. Agreeing to resting time was something he would have fought tooth and nail against, so seeing that he agreed, it was the best negotiation possible.

Damian sagged against the medical cot, seemingly relaxed.

Alfred felt his head with the back of his hand, "Master Damian, it almost looks as though you are content with having been shot."

Damian's pale face had the ghost of a smile, "Of course I'm content with an assassination attempt. This failed attempt and sudden injury ensures a partial break from the academy."

There was a moment of brief silence. Dick had to be sure he heard correctly. Everyone was looking at the young boy lying on the white medical sheet. He had just confessed to being happy about being shot at.

Dick cackled unapologetically and held his sides, "Bruce I think you've made him a normal child."

Dick continued to wheeze and clutch himself, "He agreed to rest because he doesn't have to go to school!"

Dick continued to chortle, Bruce sighed with a hint of a smile on his features, Alfred exhaled slowly as though he were trying to keep a straight face, and Damian closed his eyes ready to sleep.